French Traditions
by LameBicycle98
Summary: Fleur informs Hermione of some prewedding traditions they partake of in France. Hermione plays along. Warnings: PWP, FF, Fluff Complete.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you quite sure this is what they do in France?" asked a bewildered Hermione Granger, who was currently wearing a red bikini ensemble and standing in front of a highly amused Fleur Delacour who was dressed in an equally scandalous silver teddy, her beautiful hair swept up in a bun.

"Oh, oui oui," the quarter-veela responded with a saucy grin. "It is, ah, how you say? Tradition? Oui, tradition for the bride to experiment one last time before she becomes a wife." Fleur approached Hermione, whose eyes by now were wider than her entire face.

"Really? I've never heard about this you know. Then again I haven't really read much about marriage traditions of other countries. What exactly is this supposed to symbolize anyway?"

Fleur's eyes darted to the side and she stammered "Ay, the bride must... play with a friend who is a virgin. Oui, the step from virginity to ... adulthood. Tomorrow I lay with my husband after having lain the last time with another virgin."

"Oh, oh gosh. Fleur, maybe I should tell you. I'm..." she coughed and shuffled her feet. "I'm not actually a virgin." Fleur waved her hand.

"I am a modern girl. Tradition is silly." she said before taking Hermione's face in her hands and snogging her. Hermione made a feeble protest before closing her eyes and parting her lips, inviting Fleur to enter her tongue with her own.

As the two girls battled with their tongues pieces of clothing started pooling at their feet. Last but not least was Fleur's hair tie, allowing her beautiful locks to fall around her sculptured face.

The two girls moved to the bed, where they each took turns touching and moaning against one another. Suddenly Hermione's face turned red, along with her shoulders and the tops of her perky breasts.

"You are alright?" asked Fleur with a smile.

"Oh, it's just that your breasts are so much... bigger than mine," said Hermione, ducking her head in embarrassment. Fleur laughed at that.

"They are beautiful, she said and took one in her mouth to lavish it with kisses. She traveled her hands downward until they became twisted in the triangle that shaped downward between Hermione's legs. Tentatively she brushed against the nub that was there, causing an even deeper moan from Hermione. Fleur grinned before plunging a finger in and stroking slowly.

"Who was it you lost your virginity to? Ah, may I guess, ma petite fille? Was it that dark potions master?" she whispered suggestively. Hermione's eyes widened at that.

"Why does everyone think I've been sleeping with him! Honestly. You're the third person who has said that to me," Hermione had to bite off the rest of her complaints as another moan escaped from her. The bushy-haired girl brought her own lips to Fleur's big breasts, running her tongue over them.

"If you must know, it was Fred and George," she said quietly, and if it was possible, turned an even brighter shade of red.

"Both of them! Ma petite fille, you are a naughty girl."

"It wasn't my fault!" Hermione whined. "One would get up and the other came into the room. I can't tell them apart! I thought it was only one of them but after awhile I caught on. No man can go that many times without getting tired," she mumbled.

"Ah, not like us girls," Fleur said, before moving down and replacing her fingers with her mouth.

The two girls continued for quite some time, each responding beautifully as the other played herpartner like a piano. Each girl moaned to the ministrations, the hands, tongues, the flicker of eyelashes against their skins. Their groaning became so loud, however, that it brought a worried Bill Weasley to the door.

"Fleur! I heard you screaming, is everything... oh, oh my," he sputtered as he saw his intended in bed with Hermione. Fleur only smiled and petted Hermione, who was using Fleur's breasts as pillows. Bill grinned wickedly.

"Want to join us on our honeymoon, Hermione?"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I wasn't originally going to continue with this but... what can I say? I do have an idea for a third and final chapter, so if you want to see it let me know via that wonderful review button. They make me smile, after all:P

I own nothing, nothing!

It had been a few months since the wedding of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. It was a very peaceful time. The dark lord had been defeated, Dumbeldore's portrait had finally woken up to the delight of all, and even Harry got out of his "I'm angsty and emo" stage long enough to get a lap-dance from one of the strippers at Bill's bachelor party. Of course, immediately after he went back to being emo and angsty, but this time with a purpose. Taking a page out of Hermione's book he started campaigning for the rights of strippers.

It was called S.L.U.T. Or, Society for the Lucrative Unification of Transsexuals. (He later learned that his stripper, Candy, was a man. Then he decided that he didn't exactly not enjoy it and that started a whole lot more angsty and emo feelings).

"Woe," said Harry.

Meanwhile, Hermione Granger was having a relatively good time. She was working for the ministry of magic developing cures for some of the more bizarre hexes.

"You have pustules _where?"_ being the sentence most often spoke by her these days.

It was really settling in to be a rather interesting, if not glamourous life. So when she got the owl from Fleur requesting her presence at her and Bill's new home she couldn't help but be a tiny bit curious. Hence, she floo'd immediately only to be rushed into the arms of a sobbing Fleur.

"It is 'orrible, 'orrible!" sobbed the blond, her hair in disarray, her bathrobe opening just a bit to reveal a lacy white bra. Hermione noticed right away and couldn't help but remember the mass of flesh that lay under it, pink and inviting.

"What's horrible, Fleur?"

"I have forgotten to engage in another tradition from my native home of France! Without engaging in this tradition my marriage is sure to fall apart!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes a bit.

"Fleur, look, I was reading up on the last time we executed a "tradition" from your native country and I haven't found anything in any book that actually stated the wife had to play with a virgin friend of hers."

"It is passed orally!" sobbed Fleur, who for a girl with running mascara was quick on her toes.

"Oh. Oh, well, I didn't think of that," said a stumped Hermione, who was beginning to think that traditions in France were passed a lot like herpes. "So what does this one require?"

"After the married couple has their first fight and have forgiven one another the woman must lay with a virgin to be clean of all the negative thoughts surrounding the argument."

"But Fleur! I already told you I'm not a virgin!"

"It didn't matter the first time. It doesn't matter now. Will you help me?" She blinked her eyes and shook her main of hair, sniffling a little just for effect.

"Oh, gosh, I suppose," said the bookworm.

Hand in hand the girls went off to the bedroom. Quickly they discarded of their clothes and went back to exploring one another's bodies. Hermione noticed that Fleur looked a little bit more plump then she did last time, her nipples a little bit more peaky. Hermione ran her hand over them as Fleur gave a delighted little squeak.

"They are sensitive, no?" said Fleur with a saucy grin.

"Very much so," breathed Hermione.

This time Hermione brought her head down to Fleur's blond snatch and ran her tongue over the little nob that was there. Fleur giggled and ran her fingers through Hermione's bushy hair, bringing the other girls face closer to her pleasure point. Hermione inserted a finger into Fleur's folds and stroked, allowing her tongue to play along the lips and clitoris.

Fleur arched her back and exhaled with the pleasure. Bill was also good at the fine art of cunnilingus, but it truly took another woman to know just how to operate another woman's body. She gasped as she came, crying out at the shuddering orgasm.

"Please, let me return the favor," she said to Hermione, who was only too happy to oblige.

Hermione remembered how much she loved it when Fleur played with her breasts. Fleur took the large mounds in her hand and squeezed. Her tongue ran over the mounds as her hands played within the girls folds. They continued on like this for quite sometime before they heard a frustrated groan in the corner.

Throwing off the invisibility cloak, a flushed and bulging Bill Weasley strode out, muttering "You're forgiven, you're forgiven!" and rushing into the bathroom.

"FLEUR!" cried a disgruntled Hermione Granger, whose companion only laughed.

"Forgive me ma fille petite, but I have won the argument, and in France, tradition dictates that the woman always comes out on top."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm pretty sure this is the end for this flufftacular story. It was a fun challenge that a friend asked me to do and I didn't take it seriously, but I did laugh a bit and it seems like people enjoy it. Thank you so much for reading!

And of course, I own nothing at all.

French Traditions

Part III

Hermione Granger was feeling fed up. Twice the little genius had been fooled by her French friend. Hermione was thinking about that saying, "fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me" and it made her face burn.

After all, Hermione was the smartest witch of her age. She shouldn't be fooled so damn many times from a little floozy from France. It was insulting, not only to her personal intelligence, but also to her country as a whole. Hermione never really thought herself as much of a patriot, but allowances must be made in times of emergency.

Hermione considered talking to Harry about her problem but the bespectacled hero had been MIA as of late. There were sightings of him sitting in front of a club called the Man Hole standing on a soap box and using a sonorous charm to spread the sensation of S.L.U.T.

He was expected to be arrested at any moment.

Since the Boy-Who-May-Have-Survived-To-Only-Waste-The-Rest-Of-His-Existence was not around, she decided to go and ask the third member of the trio, one Ronald Weasley.

"Ron," began Hermione, taking the young boy by surprise. He had been bending over a letter. When she interrupted his reading, his face turned as red as his hair. He quickly rose to his feet and looked particularly sheepish.

"Hey Hermione."

"Ron I need your advice on a certain sister-in-law of... what is that you're reading?"

"What, this?" he pulled the letter out and then quickly his it behind his back. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a space bit of parchment."

"Really? Just a spare bit of parchment, is it?"

"Yeah," he began, then squeaked a protest when he found the letter _accio_'d out of his hand by a certain bushy-haired witch. He made an attempt to get it back, but one glare from said witch made him stop halfway.

"What's this then? Is this a poem?"

"No!" cried Ron who, if it was possible, had gone even redder. Hermione raised a disbelieving eyebrow before reciting the poem out loud, much to Ron's chagrin.

_My Ode to a Weasley_

_Who makes me go Wheezly_

_I adore your back door_

_The flight makes me sore_

_Perhaps we should use some cream_

"Wow, Ron," began Hermione, who was grimacing at the nowhere near Shakespearean quality of the words. "You have an admirer here. Who happens to be... _Blaise_! Blaise Zabini, Ron?"

"Oh don't be daft!" huffed Ron. "There's nothing wrong with it. You were always talking about inter-house unity after you gave up that vomit campaign."

"It was S.P.E.W. and I have nothing against Slytherins in general. It's just... Blaise is a boy, Ron."

"Oh, spot on," he rolled his eyes. "Look, it's not that I'm a queer, alright? He looks like a girl. It's practically straight. Stop looking at me like that. Harry does it too! Stop judging me!" Ron got so flustered that he simply got up and ran out of the room. Hermione sputtered after him.

"Oh, big help you were, you sod."

It's times like these that Hermione decided to put the fact that she was the brightest witch of her age to use. She had hung around Draco enough to pick up that revenge, that dish the Slytherins were famous for, was best served cold.

Hermione went to her bedroom and floo'd Fleur under the guise of a great distress. When the blond arrived, wearing an almost transparent dress that revealed more than it showed, Hermione gulped. Hot, cold, it didn't matter. Revenge was hard to put past such a beautiful woman.

"You 'alled, oui?" said the girl with a knowing smirk. Hermione didn't even bother to answer. She approached the taller girl, and, raising herself to her tiptoes, placed a kiss on Fleur's lips. Fleur responded and each settled into a routine of nibbling and licking, the caress of tongues against one another.

Hermione moved the taller girl to the bed and they collapsed onto the welcoming, silken sheets. The bushy-haired Gryffindor was on top of a change, and the french quarter veela was enjoying her ministrations. She gave a feminine cry of desire and submission when Hermiones finger entered between her swollen lips.

"You're beautiful, Fleur," she said truthfully. The girl under her only smirked as if to say, 'oui, I know.'

With her free hand Hermione kneaded her breasts, before swatting away the other girls hand.

"No, tonight it's my turn," she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Out came Hermione's wand, and after muttering a spell ropes cam shooting out and attached themselves to the headboard and Fleur's dainty writs.

"Ma petite fille! You like it naughty, no?" said the blond, whose laughter at this turned into heady moans as Hermione continued to stroke. She whimpered when the Gryffindor pushed in another finger, then another. Her thumb made maddening circles on that nob of pleasure, and soon she was writhing beneath Hermione on the verge of release.

"Oh please, oh please!" she begged.

And then Hermione stopped. Fleur panicked.

"Ma petite fille, what is wrong? Please, please continue!"

"You know," began Hermione, getting up. "We have traditions here in England as well, such as screwing the French over."

Hermione put on a robe and walked out, leaving a begging, sweaty Fleur still bound to the headboard. Hermione made a mental note to floo Bill in an hour and collect his wife. She smirked. Revenge was sweet.


End file.
